Page 81 of Really Truly Yours
His sigh is wheezy. “Where you rushin’ off to anyhow?”
“Houston.”
His eyebrows, dappled with gray that seems premature, draw down. “Houston?”
I stare. One minute he’s joking, the next jibing—and the next, he’s like an abandoned puppy wondering why no one will play with him.
Across the table, I kick a foot onto the rung of the other dining chair. “I got a doctor’s appointment in the morning. Shoulder.”
His rolled in lips tremor so like a man old enough to be his father. “How is that arm of yours?
Grasping my left shoulder, I carefully circle it in its socket. “Let’s put it this way. I might have to move in with you so the nurses can take care of me, too.”
Fatherly concern flitting through his brown eyes takes me aback. I’ve got a dad already, one who still knows nothing of this guy, by the way, nothing that’s transpired in the last two weeks. Gotta throw that onto my to-do list soon.
The vulnerable moment evaporates on a grunt. “Ha. You’d hog all the attention and I’d die in a corner.”
“Could be, old man. What can I say? When you got it, you got it.” Fanning with my shirt, I roll my shoulders.
Oww. Yep, Dr. Stanwick is going to kill me tomorrow.
Him I can handle. It’s our manager who’s going to do me in, and once word gets to ownership…
“Now, tell me what you need from the store.”
Donny waves me off. “Don’t need nothing.”
“Come on. Let me get some snacks at least. Shampoo and soap and stuff. This is home now.”
“It ain’t home.”
I sigh. “Donny—”
“Call Sydnee. She knows what I like.”
Tapping the top of the chair, I try to figure his game. He does have one, and I’m wishing now I’d never let on to thinking about her like I do.
A twitch jerks his cheek. “I need some things from my house.”
“I’m sure you do. Like I said, text me a list. I’ll be back in town tomorrow and I’ll pick stuff up.”
“Sydnee can help.”
“Sydnee has her own life. I’m here now.”
His expression wilts and he fingers a never-been-used placemat. “You’re right.”
Thank you. It’s about time he didn’t argue.
His chin pops up. “Ask her anyway, before you go in there rifling through my stuff!”
Yet Sydnee is permitted to invade his privacy?
He’s being cantankerous for cantankerousness’ sake. I blow out a breath instead of following my initial inclination to strike back. Probably the ankle is hurting, thanks to his bullheadedness about pain meds.
I opt for the more-flies-with-honey approach, stuff my irritation, and coax out a short list of necessary items. I help him into bed for a nap, then make as quick work as possible out of my trip to the store.
When I return, I narrate my purchases as I stock the cabinets. My monologue closes with a handful of instructions about medications and some additional information I was given when I signed the lease.